


A Taste Of Rejection

by MadameMorganLeFay



Category: Queer as Folk (US)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-09-27
Updated: 2014-09-27
Packaged: 2018-02-19 00:38:26
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,247
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2367830
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MadameMorganLeFay/pseuds/MadameMorganLeFay
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>What was there to do after Justin publicly dumped him at Babylon? Not much for Brian except pretend he was back in business- and try not to think about that persistent kid he liked to call "Sunshine"... AU, filler scene for 2x20. One-Shot.</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Taste Of Rejection

Michael's voice carried well over the night air, but Brian kept running. No doubt his friend was keen to check whether he was alright- but that only made him snort as he jumped into his jeep and stamped on the gas. Who wouldn't be just _fine_ after they had been publicly dumped at a party? Jesus, Mikey would do well to use his brain from time to time.

He clenched his fingers at the wheel as he sped off, swerving to miss drifters congregated outside the club. Insisting to himself that the thought of crawling into a hole had never crossed his mind after what happened in Babylon, he flicked on his car radio, scrolling to a tolerable station to last the remainder of his unsafe drive home. With a deep breath, he relaxed in his seat, keeping his dull, aching eyes on the lamp-lit roads ahead. _It's okay,_ he whispered under his breath, his voice wavering, _You're alright; you can put a spin on this..._

Unsurprisingly, the foolish mantra rang hollow in his head, and danced around in the stagnant air. Being Brian Kinney, however, he clung to it regardless. 

The soothing melody was nothing of the sort; it simply flowed in one ear and out the other, harmonious notes somehow discordant like an orchestra playing out of time. He made a few crazy corners, thinking he might have remembered a few of the words, but tonight was not the night for a tuneless sing-a-long. Especially not since those memories were full of a lively Justin Taylor, and he was making _this_ dangerous trip home... alone. No, the only thing worth doing was to get home as soon as possible without crashing into anything or getting pulled over for speeding. Then he was just going to fall into sweet oblivion between the sheets.

Finally! His loft; the only sanctuary he had left in a world he no longer recognized. With another sigh, Brian jumped out his jeep and sprinted for the lift, keys already jingling inside his hands. Not a few seconds later, he yanked back his front door, made a beeline for the bed and slumped in amongst the pillows without even bothering to undress. 

God, the loft was so... so _silent_! Where had all the music gone? Where was the constant chatter, the laughter... Oh yeah; it left when Justin did. So he was left to stare blankly at his ceiling for an hour that lasted a century until he finally admitted that he couldn't sleep. What next? A quick smoke seemed reasonable enough... but when he made a half-hearted swipe for his faithful bedside pack and missed, he gave up altogether, limp arm falling back into place. So tonight was the night he actually refused drugs as a means to an end. And now... what? The end of life as he knew it?

Still, unwilling to find some other form of entertainment, he continued gazing at everything... and nothing in particular.

Another hour ticked by, and he didn't even yawn-hardly an encouraging sign, what with him having work fresh and early tomorrow- plus he had yet to master a way of disguising his atrocious hangovers. The last thing he needed was to scare off a possible new account by looking a wreck at the office. 

Come to think of it, maybe shutting his eyes might be helpful.

"Why, Kinney; you're a genius," he whispered. One by one, his eyelids flickered shut, and his heart beat eventually slowed. It was a good look; _he_ would have been fooled.

…If only his eyes hadn't flown open a few seconds later, ruining the charade. Brian chewed his bottom lip, then rolled onto his side, trying to forget what he had just seen… no, _fantasized_ about. When had he become so accustomed to Justin as to dream of him naturally?

Such a mortifying occurrence could not continue, since they were over now- for good. Accepting this would not pose too much of a problem since he was Brian Kinney, famously opposed to the concept of fucking someone twice, let alone loving them. Just as he'd allowed the memory of his countless conquests to fade into the all-too distant past, his brief time with Justin would also disappear into the shadows, never to be recalled again.

Brian pressed his lips together, swallowing back an unwanted lump in his throat. Fine, he would confess; his attempt to analyse the... unfortunate situation in a cold, detached manner wasn't working. Clearly, he would spend a good few more hours thinking about how he'd been thrown away, dropped off a cliff... stabbed in the heart- all before even shutting his eyes. Well... what was there to say? Justin was fed up of him, and decided that he would rather someone else. That was life. You take what you want, if and when. Simple as. It was his favorite credo, after all. And he had always maintained that Justin was free to do as he pleased. So there was no point crying over split milk when they split up in such a dramatic fashion- and certainly no point evading the truth. As incredulous as it sounded: Justin not only didn't love him anymore, he'd found someone else. That was that. The end. Finito. 

Something clenched painfully inside his stomach.

Nevertheless, he would be just fine. There would be other chance encounters, other fine asses to enjoy. The sun would not stop shining because Justin was now fucking a genius violinist… Brian shut his eyes briefly, lips pressed together at the sudden image of the treacherous lovers entwined, wrestling together between the sheets… Well, whatever floats your boat. Personally, he hated violin music with a passion, but Justin clearly disagreed. Fine. Nothing wrong with that.

And on that unconvincing note, sleep finally overtook him.

Unfortunately, with sleep came passionate dreams- all of them featuring the very person he no longer wanted to think about. Images of him ravishing Justin in every imaginable way swam all around him; he could hear their melodious groans as though they were but a few feet away from him... Their combined sweat trickled down his skin as they rocked against each other harder, faster… And... _Sunshine_ would gaze up at him, begging for more until his eyes would clamp shut as he cried out helplessly, lost in the shuddering waves of his release. And what a beautiful epiphany it was... Once or twice, Brian woke abruptly, feeling his thickness throbbing against his legs, only to tumble back into oblivion.

Yes, how he'd loved to stroke those silky blond locks, press his lips against that impossibly soft mouth. Their kisses had always been so deep, so hungry that he sometimes wondered what took him so long to admit to the smouldering chemistry between them. Justin... his Sunshine could just _look_ at him innocently, and he would almost be overwhelmed by a desire to take him there and then- wherever "there" might be… And every time he was wrapped up deep inside his lover took him out of this world… No, the pull of the magnet had been too strong for him to resist... He was riding the dream as though Justin's writhing body was trapped underneath his, willing him to reach that sweet spot, when---

Out of nowhere, his alarm beeped angrily into his ear.

With a succession of curses, he rolled about under the covers until the desire to earn money overcame his early morning temper. Then it was a slow, undignified stumble to the showers during which time he felt like puking up last night's mind-blurring concoction of drugs from his disco pharmacologist. (That guy was a dirty crook…)

At last, he reached the beautiful sensation of hot water trickling down his back… How calming, how comfortable. Here, under this endless spray he could forget who he was, his life, everything. It was the perfect setting for—

\--His eyes opened again; mind having wandered further than he wished. A crystal clear picture of Justin again, naked, soapy, wet and wanting had materialized in the middle of his reverie. Even now, the hologram stoked the dancing flames of his desire; his eyes drifted shut and with a lazy smile, he imagined slamming Justin against the shower door, pulling on a condom and penetrating him. He remembered joking about Sunshine drooling against the door with his cries of pleasure, or that one of these days, the shower would come crashing down on their heads... And in those ecstatic moments when they came together, there'd always be such a mess- yet they'd do nothing but stand under the jet stream, snickering like teenagers about it. Yes, those had been the best times, laughing into the steam without a care, soaping and caressing Justin, peppering his fragrant skin with rough, open-mouthed kisses...

Jesus Christ!

Brian awoke with a start, let go of himself. What was he doing? Where had the time gone? He had a whole fucking day of work starting in less than an hour and here he was, slumped against his shower door, desperately jerking off! Had it really come to this?

First thing once work was over, he was going to find a hot trick. This depressing widow style he was currently experimenting with could not last. It was bad enough he'd been rejected for a goddam precocious youngster without becoming a hermit on top of it all. He was the Fuck-Master, for Christ's sake! He was out there every single night between a pair of great legs, thrusting as hard as he could. He was the talk of the town. Nothing would stop in the great wheel of life because of... a minor setback. 

Now he was back in his jeep, eyes fixed on the road. Today was going to be a productive day. He was going to find a new account, impress his partner and then fuck hard until the small hours in Babylon. Just like any other day in town. And he would do this all again, because he was Brian Kinney, the Numero Uno Homo in all of glorious Pittsburgh. Nothing to it. He could even start right now.

…After a coffee.

With another dose of curses, he drove down to the Liberty Diner, already smelling a rich black roast cup ready for him to devour.

It seemed in the time since leaving Babylon abruptly and returning to civilian life, he had forgotten about his friends. Or, he realized, tuning into their conversation- so-called friends. Listening to Ted laugh at the image of him sequestered away "broken, humiliated, devastated" was pretty hard to take. Of course, he didn't think too much of Theodore- but in his defense, said accountant didn't think too much of him- proof of which was found in watching Ted and Mel laugh at his supposed downfall. By now, he'd learned to take the mockery with a casual expression, rather than storming out of Woody's to cuss and cry on Michael Novotny's shoulder. But then Emmett- usually rather more friendly- decided to weigh in on the affair, speculating that he would be packing his bags now that he was "no longer Pittsburgh's Numero Uno Homo".

That was the final straw. If this was what he was hearing, who knew what else had been said behind his back? He wasn't shut up at home, contemplating suicide! He hadn't pleaded for Justin to stay! Wasn't he up and doing, smartly dressed, coffee in hand? What right did Ted and Emmett of all people have to make jokes at his expense?

"Reports of my death have been greatly exaggerated," he announced out of the blue, satisfied in their shocked faces. As he strode over to a vacant table behind the treacherous group, Ted actually had the nerve to ask how long he had been standing there. "Long enough… to know who my real friends are." Again, the collective guilt on their faces was a small reward in itself.

Michael lost no time in coming to sit across from him, eagerly asking after his health. Brian knew that only with his best friend the mask he wore could slip, but tolerated the onslaught of questions, glad of a sympathetic face.

"Brilliant. Dazzling," he replied tonelessly. Well, that wasn't much of a convincing effort, but it would have to do—

\--Justin walked into the diner at that moment, and a deathly hush fell over the Diner, as though he carried an air of misfortune upon his youthful shoulders. Trying not to flinch, Brian knew they were both avoiding eye contact with each other, as much as with everyone else. _If all else fails, the show must go on._ Against the frantic beating of his heart, he desperately tried to remain true to his part, staring into his coffee... 

Somehow, his rebellious eyes strayed over to Justin's burgundy jacket, travelling up and up and up...

Till their eyes met.

It was only a brief moment before Justin tore his sullen gaze elsewhere when a silent Debbie asked him to get to work. Brian now stared into his coffee, fighting a strange emptiness he'd never experienced in years. It defied description, comparison... reason, even. Suffice to say that Justin had left a gaping hole inside of him. With a forced gulp, he glanced back at Michael, then at his beverage, then at the space Justin had been standing.

One thing was certain; if he definitely did not feel "brilliant" at that moment, he sure as hell was not "dazzling".


End file.
